


you undid me like a fairy tale

by yanak324



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arya makes some bad decisions in this, But mostly fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Self-Discovery, You've been warned, and Gendry is a little petty and a lot grumpy and a whole lot sexy, arya pov, but always a happy ending because i said so, oh and Ned is not an asshole in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23399782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanak324/pseuds/yanak324
Summary: And it’s not like Gendry made things any easier. With his own nonexistent relationships and his heavy gaze always following her, and his annoying penchant for constantly pushing her to be better.And okay, that last bit could have been misconstrued as him simply being a good friend, but it had never felt likejust friendshipwith Gendry. It's not Arya's fault that it took her so long to figure out why.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Edric "Ned" Dayne/Arya Stark
Comments: 76
Kudos: 249





	you undid me like a fairy tale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [insanesanity24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/insanesanity24/gifts).



> For the beautiful & supportive Allison, who requested a fic based on "Love ain't" by Eli Young band. Thank you for taking me out of my comfort zone. This is very different from anything I've written before. I had a blast writing it though, and I hope you have a blast reading it. 
> 
> As always, I don't own the characters. Enjoy <3

xxx

It’s a quarter past 9pm when Arya Stark comes to the conclusion that she’s indeed been stood up.

The restaurant is still busy enough and there’s enough wine in her glass to make it seem like she’s having dinner alone.

Yet, the empty chair across the white cloth draped table is glaring.

And all she can think about is how much Gendry would hate this place. 

xxx

 ** _Three years ago, give or take_**

She’s deciding between two pairs of earrings when there’s a knock, and then a creak as her door opens.

“Hey, Jon wanted to know-… _whoa._ ”

She spins around, the delicate hem of her dress following, just in time to see Gendry freeze with one foot inside her room.

He gives her a quick onceover before locking his eyes on hers. Not for the first time, Arya wishes that his cerulean gaze didn’t make her feel so hot, so _exposed._

Especially when she’s so unused to wearing dresses.

“You look nice. Going somewhere?”

He leans against the wall, strong arms crossing over an even stronger chest and for a sudden, incomprehensible moment, all Arya wants to do is return his sentiment instead of answering his question.

She doesn’t.

Both because it’d be completely off the wall – she doesn’t do compliments, and because she’s gotten very good at ignoring these inexplicable bursts of attraction? Thrill? Excitement? 

Whatever it is that she’s started to feel more and more lately around Jon’s best mate.

“Yes. I’m meeting Ned.”

She tries not to fixate on her careful word choice – meeting, not dating; least of all not a first date, even if that’s exactly what this is.

After months of trying, her old fencing partner finally managed to wear her down; and, even now, thirty minutes before she’s supposed to leave, Arya is still as unsure as ever.

But Gendry – _especially_ Gendry – doesn’t need to know that. Doesn’t need to know that he might be a huge part of why she’d finally agreed to have dinner with Ned.

After all, Sansa always says the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.

Not that Arya is planning to get under Ned or anyone else tonight, and not that she makes a point of listening to Sansa ever?

But maybe the charming Ned Dayne can be a distraction from these thoughts, these _feelings_ she’s been battling for weeks, if not months. 

For someone who no one would describe as charming.

“Ah…” is all Gendry says, and she could kill him. 

Truly.

For his bulging muscles, and unfairly mesmerizing eyes, and the mop of black hair that is just begging for her fingers to run through it.

But most of all for the wave of affection that threatens to knock her off her feet as he gazes almost fondly at her before pushing off the wall.

“What did Jon want?” She asks in some half-desperate attempt to keep him from leaving.

“Just if Pentoshi take out was alright with you, but I guess he forgot you had a date.”

The way Gendry says date makes her stomach twist in the most uncomfortable way. 

She wants to correct him but can’t. Ned was very adamant about this being a date, and she’d agreed. 

Stupid her.

Except Gendry’s looking at her like she’s anything but stupid, something like longing fleeting all too quickly across his ocean-tinted eyes. 

Then it’s gone, and he’s turning on his heel again, and –

“Go with the silver ones. They bring out your eyes.”

It takes Arya a solid minute to realize he is referring to the earrings in her left hand and by that time, he’s long gone.

But the look on his face stays with her through the entire night, especially when Ned compliments her earrings before leaning in to kiss her.

And stupid her. She kisses him back.

xxx 

“Can I get you another, miss?” 

Her trip down memory lane gets rudely interrupted by the expectant face of her waiter. 

The same one who has been fleeting around her for the past forty-five minutes. 

He’s perfectly pleasant but there’s an edge of frustration in his otherwise stoic expression and Arya automatically feels guilty for holding up the table without ordering anything else. 

Her phone chooses that moment to light up with a notification and for one, heart-stopping moment she thinks that maybe Gendry has texted her – which really should tell her everything she needs to know since he’s not even the one who she’s waiting for – but she's suddenly just so tired, so exhausted from all of it that she shakes her head and reaches for her purse. 

“No, just the check please.” 

The waiter nods and walks away. 

Arya doesn’t wait for him, throwing a wad of cash down next to the untouched silverware – how much could a glass of house red really cost anyway?

Then she’s slinking through tables, sidestepping waiters and busboys, and couples – _why so many couples?_ – and is outside in less than thirty seconds. 

Not bad, she thinks to herself, a hint of adrenaline and the sweet summer air distracting her long enough from how absolutely shitty tonight has been. 

Then she remembers the entirely too attractive scowl on Gendry’s face any time she sneaks up on him and how he calls her “too bloody light-footed for her own good” and realizes that nothing can ever truly distract her from how badly she’s fucked up. 

xxx 

**_Approximately two years ago_**

“Hey.” 

“Arya, what the fuck!” 

Even though she tapped him on the shoulder, Gendry still jumps back nearly a foot, and Arya has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. 

For being a self-proclaimed introvert and resident grump, he’s been surrounded by people all night. 

To be fair, it’s his birthday, one Jon practically bullied him into having. But still, Arya has barely spent any real time with him lately, so when he disappeared into the kitchen, she followed. 

And she is glad she did, because there’s just something about a startled Gendry, flushed cheeks and that ever-present frown, that makes her feel light, light in a way she doesn’t want to analyze. 

Not when the sight of him is so damn appealing, so damn _familiar._

“Having a good birthday?”

Gendry grunts in response, dumping a handful of ice into a red solo cup, and oh is that whiskey she smells? 

Arya raises on her tip toes to peer over his shoulder, and now amidst the stench of alcohol, there’s also leather and metal, but the whiskey blessedly overpowers it just long enough for her to realize why his reaction to her was so exaggerated. 

“You’re drunk.”

It’s nothing more than observation, but Gendry seems to take it as a personal slight for how quickly he whips around to narrow his eyes at her. 

“And so what if I am? What’s it to you?” 

And all the levity inside her gets her sucked out, because that crooked scowl she loves so much is now bordering on a sneer, and Arya finds she doesn’t like it one bit. 

“Nothing, but as a friend, I’d be remiss not to suggest a glass of water in between all your whiskey chugging.” 

“Friend,” he snorts, “coulda fooled me.” 

If the derision in his tone weren’t enough, the hefty swallow he takes from the cup would surely tip her off that something’s wrong. 

Even with the sinking feeling that’s now materialized somewhere in the pit of her stomach, she firms her stance and doesn’t let his moodiness chase her away. 

“Yes, friend. Do you have a problem with that?” 

“Nope.” 

She can tell he’s trying to be casual, but all it does is make him appear anything but. 

“Just thought friends saw each other more than once a month, but my mistake.” 

And it’s not true because he’s at her and Jon’s flat all the freaking time, but it’s also _very_ true, because she hasn’t exchanged more than a passing hello with him. Not with everything she has going on – and yeah, maybe if that’s all there was to it, then Arya wouldn’t feel so guilty, but it’s not. 

She’s always been a pro at managing a busy social life, and standing in front of Gendry now, expression dazed but still somehow very accusatory, it’s hard to deny that she has been avoiding him. 

But now she’s annoyed too, because wasn’t the entire point of her approaching him to spend time with him? And he’d gone and ruined it. 

“You know I’ve been busy, Gendry. Between my day job, and teaching self-defense, and-“

“Ned?” 

Ah, and isn’t it the most ironic part of all of this. That up until this exact moment, she hadn’t even thought about her boyfriend. 

Her wonderful, sweet, attentive boyfriend, who has been sending her at least one text an hour as he makes his way to Starfall to care for his ailing aunt.

“What about him?”

She spits out with a lot more ire than she intended, but fuck it, now she’s just mad. 

At who, she doesn’t know, but Gendry seems like an easy target. At least he can take it. 

Maybe he _should_ take it, what with how he’s still glowering at her, and really nobody should look this sexy when they’re angry.

“Nothing, just curious how that’s going for you?” 

Arya really wishes he didn’t sound like it’s actually the last thing he’s curious about. 

Every instinct tells her she should walk away, but she’s never been able to do that where Gendry is concerned, so she juts her chin out and fixes him with her most irritated stare. 

“Why do you have to say it like that?”

“Like what?” 

And damn it, if a thrill doesn’t rush through her at the way he cocks his head to the side, feigning innocence but actually failing, because Gendry can’t act for shit. And with the added benefit of being drunk, it just makes him seem petty, and she shouldn’t engage but – 

“Like it’s a joke.” 

“Are you saying your relationship is a joke?” 

And really, she could rip her hair out, or his – which would require her to run her fingers through those dark locks that have that stupid tendency of falling over his forehead – and just the mere thought makes her giddy in a way she really has no business being. 

Then Ned’s handsome face flashes in her mind, and all she feels is guilt.

Guilt and shame for having these thoughts for someone other than her boyfriend of a year. 

Someone who is too grumpy and too anti-social and sometimes just plain an asshole for no reason. 

Someone who implies that her relationship is a joke, and alright, she might deserve that but Ned certainly doesn’t. So, Gendry can piss right off with his opinions and insinuations, and Arya has no problem telling him so. 

“You know what, Gendry. You can go fuck yourself.”

And she turns around to leave but then – 

“Arya, wait.” 

It’s as if her words have sobered him up, because his eyes are the clearest she’s seen since she approached him. 

But that’s not what gets her to stop. 

No, that would be the hand he now has wrapped around her arm, her _bare_ arm. 

And if Arya had felt guilty before, she’s not sure what she’s feeling now, because how can a simple touch send sparks, literal sparks of heat shooting up her arm? 

How can someone who is so goddamn wrong for her make her feel so incredibly good? 

Not even just good but fucking incredible – at least far more incredible than her boyfriend, her _long-term_ boyfriend makes her feel.

It’s that specific thought that has her snapping at him. 

“What? What do you want?” 

For a second, Gendry actually looks chastened, and goddamn if it doesn’t tug at her heart when he glances down at the floor and then right back at her. 

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. I just, I miss you, alright?” 

And then she really needs to get away from him, because if it’s not bad enough that he’s staring at her with the most pitiful expression on his face, which her warped mind has somehow turned into cuteness, but now his thumb is dragging along her inner elbow. 

Arya is pretty sure he’s not even doing it on purpose but if she stays here any longer, she might do something stupid and – 

“It’s fine,” she finally says, because it is, because she can never stay mad at him for long, if ever. 

Especially not when he’s clearly been drinking, and it’s not an excuse but it’s Gendry, and they could go months without speaking and she’ll still somehow always have a soft spot for him. 

“Just lay off the whiskey, will ya?”

“Duly noted.”

He drops her arm then and pours the whiskey into the sink, replacing it with water from the tap. Even though the words are on the tip of her tongue – _I miss you too_ – Arya walks away instead, stopping only when she’s in the kitchen doorway. 

“Hey, Gendry.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Happy Birthday.” 

And then she leaves, not waiting around to see his reaction.

When Ned gets back from his trip two weeks later, he asks her if she'd consider moving in together. 

And stupid her. She says she’ll think about it. 

xxx

The night is warm, almost too warm for her liking. 

There’s a hint of approaching rain in the air, which reminds Arya more of the Stormlands than King’s Landing, which then inevitably triggers a memory of the trip Jon and Gendry surprised her with after she graduated uni. 

They’d hiked the steep cliffs, and walked through the lush fields, and drank and ate entirely too much Southern food and wine. It had been one of the best weekends of her life.

Her best friend and her favorite brother (never cousin, because Jon would always be a brother to her), and a celebration of all her accomplishments thus far.

Had it really been just four years ago? Things seemed so simple then. 

And then what happened? 

Oh right, _feelings_ happened. 

Feelings she could never make sense of or articulate for how gradually they snuck up on her. 

It’s not as though one day she’d woken up and realized she was in love with Gendry. Nope, her mind apparently didn’t work that way. 

Instead, it felt like a slow build resembling the ebb and flow of an ocean tide. 

No matter what Arya did – taking Ned up on his offer of dinner, then his offer of dating, and then everything else – it kept coming back, stronger each time. 

And it’s not like Gendry made things any easier. 

With his own nonexistent relationships and his heavy gaze always following her around the room, and his annoying penchant for constantly challenging her and pushing her to be better. 

And okay, that last bit could have been misconstrued as him simply being a good friend, but it had never felt like _just friendship _with Gendry.__

__It just took her stupid mind a long time to figure it out, and in the midst of it all, she’d made some decisions she wishes she could take back._ _

__As she walks away from the restaurant now, Arya has to wonder if it’s too late for all of that._ _

__xxx_ _

__****_**a little over a year ago**_

There’s no denying that Ned Dayne is a wonderful boyfriend. 

He’s patient, kind and caring. 

He never fails to text her good morning or surprise her with the occasional bouquet of roses just because. 

It doesn’t really matter that Arya's favorite flowers are tulips and that roses remind her of funerals. 

It’s the thought that counts, right? 

Besides, she might not do compliments, but she doesn’t like to disappoint people either. 

And something tells her that crushing the look of enthusiasm on Ned’s sweet, expressive face would definitely _crush her_ with guilt. 

And she really doesn’t need any more guilt. 

Not when things finally seem to be going her way for once. 

According to her boss, there’s a promotion in the offing. She’s been asked to teach two additional self-defense classes at her studio. And Ned has finally stopped pestering her about moving in together. 

Yup. 

Things seem to be on the up and up, which is why Arya feels a growing sense of dread the longer she stands and watches her boyfriend and her mother chat away. 

She’s stuck between wanting to know what they’re conspiring about – because that’s really what it looks like and wanting nothing more than to escape this suddenly stifling room. 

After the third time Ned looks her way and leans over to whisper something in her mom’s ear, Arya decides she’s had enough and pulls a can of beer out of the cooler before making her way out of the apartment. 

The stairwell is drafty but quiet, exactly the kind of quiet she needs right now. She doesn’t even mind the goosebumps that line her arms as she plops down on the top stair and takes a healthy swallow from the can. 

“Having fun?” 

The beer goes up her nose and then she’s coughing, which wouldn’t be too embarrassing on its own, were it not for Gendry suddenly appearing beside her and patting her back as he towers over her. 

This up close, Arya can’t escape the intensity of his concern, or the warmth of his body next to her. She hides her discomfort by looking away and holding up her hand to signal that she needs a minute.

Gendry takes this as an invitation to slot his oversized body onto the stair besides her, resulting in them being pressed together shoulder to hip and Arya realizes that she traded one hell for another.

“Sorry about that,” he says sheepishly, but she doesn’t even have to look at him to know he feels bad. 

“It’s alright, but you sure know how to sneak up on a girl.” 

“Sneaking up on people, yup that’s _my_ specialty.” 

It’s hard to control her smile at the edge of sarcasm in his tone, but she still won’t look at him. She takes an experimental sip of beer instead, just to test if she can properly drink again.

Success. 

“So, are you?” 

“Am I what?” 

“Having fun.” 

The polite answer would be that yes, she is, but Arya's never been able to lie to him and so she’s not really surprised when she shrugs and examines her scuffed boots. 

“Doesn’t matter. As long as Jon’s having fun. It’s his graduation party after all.” 

“Yeah, it is. I’m surprised your parents let him get away with such a lowkey celebration.” 

“Dad doesn’t care either way, just as long as Jon’s happy. And my mom, well, you know her.” 

A snort and then –

“Yeah, I do.”

It’s true, he does know. There’s certainly no love lost between Gendry and Catelyn Stark, which is why Arya should really leave it at that, but her mind is treacherous these days and well – 

“It’s fine. It’s not like she’s even had a spare second to look around the place with how much Ned is chatting her ear off.” 

“Oh.” 

Yeah. _Oh._

Arya takes an extra big gulp of beer to compensate for the sudden awkward silence. 

“Easy there.” 

And of course the teasing tilt to his voice would finally force her to look at him, and _of course,_ the first she notices is the absolutely attractive way his eyes crinkle when he’s smiling or amused. 

And wasn’t the stairwell drafty just a moment ago?

Since when did it get so stifling? 

The thoughts come to her in rapid succession, eclipsing anything else she might’ve been feeling, except for her inability to control this stupid effect he has on her. 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” She snaps, because really what else can she do?

It seems like the wrong move though, because Gendry’s expression softens a bit. 

It’s barely perceptible, but she sees it, because well, Arya basically has all his facial expressions memorized by now.

“I’m pretty sure no one can tell you what to do.” 

And she suddenly has the strangest urge to ask him to get out of here, take her far away from all the people inside that apartment, people who are firmly in the camp of telling her what to do. 

There’s a nick of guilt in her for thinking that, but it’s trumped by the absolute liberation she feels beneath his blue stare.

Finally, someone who understands her, who _sees_ her, and that’s the most dangerous thought of all, reminding Arya why she’d been keeping her distance from him to begin with.

And while the right thing to do would be to stop this conversation, it seems like she’s destined to always do the wrong thing when it comes to Gendry. 

“Well, that doesn’t stop some people from trying.” 

She doesn’t mean to sound so dejected, so dramatic, but Gendry’s always been a safe space for her. A judgment-free zone, even if he’s essentially a judgmental asshole when it comes to everyone else, and ugh, why is she even thinking about this right now. 

“Give Ned a break, if I were –“ 

Her head whips up at that, just in time for the rest of the words to die on his lips. 

Arya can’t even feel satisfied in the slightly panicked look on his face, because she desperately needs him to finish that sentence. She didn’t even know how much she needed it until he opened his big, stupid mouth. 

“If you were what?” She asks quickly, but Gendry’s shaking his head, or maybe not. 

Maybe it just looks like that, because he’s running his hand through his hair, his tell for when he's nervous. 

Something low and warm blooms in her belly, because she’s pretty sure she knows what he was going to say, but she needs to hear it from him.

“If you were what, Gendry?” 

She doesn’t even realize she’s scooted closer to him until she can feel his breath on her cheek. 

There’s an errant thought that if someone saw them like this, it wouldn’t be okay. Not when her boyfriend of two fucking years is inside trying to sweet talk her mother, but Arya just has to know what he meant.

For once, Gendry isn’t on the same page as her though, and she tries not to feel disappointed when he eventually leans away, pressing his back against the railing as he eyes her carefully.

“Nothing, I just don’t think people should feel pressured in relationships.” 

And okay, that’s not at all what he was going to say, of that Arya is certain, but she’s less certain of what she’s supposed to do with that information. 

Especially when it’s coming from him of all people. And maybe that’s what sparks her pettiness, but it really can’t be helped. Not when he’s this close and smells so bloody good.

“Oh yeah, and you’d know ‘cause you’ve been in so many?” 

For what it’s worth, Gendry doesn’t look all that angry with her. Maybe a tad annoyed but there’s a trace of something indiscernible in his expression, and she suddenly feels like there’s some big secret he’s not sharing with her.

Before she can’t fixate on it for too long, he leans in and then his large palm lands on her shoulder as he searches her eyes out. 

“Don't string Ned along. It’s not fair to him.” 

He smiles at her, a gentle smile, not one of his usual half-smirks, but it hits her all the same, and she’s caught speechless, watching as he squeezes her shoulder and rises. 

“I’ll see you inside.” 

And then he walks away – as if he didn’t just drop a truth bomb in her lap that she has no idea what to do with. 

Except that’s not true. 

Arya does know what to do with it, because she’s thought the same thing for months now. She wants to be angry at Gendry for the casual way he just delivered the message, but she can’t be, because it’s so like him. 

Instead, she has the sudden urge to call after him, to push him to finish his thought from before, because she knows it’s important and it’ll mean something.

She never quite works up the courage to do it and watches silently as Gendry opens the door to Jon’s apartment and disappears inside. 

Then she leans against the wall and closes her eyes, only opening them again when Ned comes looking for her and tells her he’s going home.

And stupid her. She goes with him. 

xxx

If Arya had to pick the moment that signaled the beginning of the end for her and Ned, it would have been that night. 

Gendry on that stairwell, with his penetrating stare, voicing all the concerns swirling in her head for months already. 

He’s always done that though. Always pushed her to be honest with herself and what she wants, and not just when it came to her doomed relationship.

He’d done it practically the entire time they’d known each other. 

When her parents disapproved of her pursuing a linguistics degree, Gendry had been the one to encourage her.

When nobody seemed too thrilled by the prospect of her studying abroad, Gendry had been the one to drive her to the airport and had promised to FaceTime with her whenever she felt homesick. 

Spoiler alert: she didn’t miss home at all, but she still found time to text Gendry at least once a day. 

And it was Gendry who had supported her when she’d told him about wanting to teach self-defense at the local gym after an unexpected spike in assault cases in the city one summer. 

And it’s not like Ned wasn’t supportive. He was. He just never made her feel like a priority, and it wasn’t exactly his fault. 

Arya just never let him in. 

Not like she let Gendry in. 

Or maybe it’s just that where Ned would tiptoe around her, Gendry had bulldozed his way through, tearing passed her every defense like it was paper and settling in that part of her that refused to stay quiet and complacent. 

A part that no matter what she did, made her dazed and crazy in the best way possible. And apparently drove her to make shitty decisions. 

Just thinking about the night she’d shown up unexpectedly at his apartment now makes her shiver, arms breaking out in gooseflesh despite the near stifling humidity in the air. 

It’s truly a blessing that she knows these streets like the back of her hand, because she’s not thinking about where she’s going. 

Instead, she’s thinking about what ended up being the best and worse night of her life. 

So far, anyway. 

xxx 

**_Exactly eighty one days prior_ **

Her heart is pounding so hard, she wonders if she’s having a heart attack. 

It’s surely possible, and Arya thinks she might even deserve it for showing up here. 

She doesn’t actually know what she’s doing, but it seems like she’s lost all common sense. 

The second Jon let slip that Gendry was finally back from his extended business trip – who knew that a tour of all the major forges in Westeros could take this long? – she couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

And now, she’s standing in front of his apartment building in the middle of the night. Heavy jacket draped over her pajamas and probably looking like a crazy person to anyone passing by. 

She’s about to turn around and head back home, but then she sees the light flicker on in his apartment – because of course she knows exactly which one it is – and she jams the intercom button and waits.

There’s a moment of rustling static as he picks up and then – 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, it’s me.” 

“Arya?” 

“Yes, let me up.” 

The buzzer goes off much sooner than she anticipated. 

Whatever nerves were rushing through her morph into an adrenaline that carries her up three flights of stairs, down the short hallway, and then the door is opening before she can knock and she’s confronted with the sight of a disheveled, confused Gendry. 

The first thing Arya thinks is how utterly adorable he looks with his hair all rumpled and the sleep crease that runs along his left temple. She bites back the laugh bubbling up inside her because she’s so sure Gendry would not appreciate being called adorable or cute or any other word also used to describe a teddy bear. 

“Is everything okay? What are you doing here?” 

And because she doesn’t have an answer for him, Arya pushes passed him and into the warmth of his apartment. 

As soon as she's inside, the frantic energy that propelled her here comes back tenfold, and she doesn’t even hear Gendry close the door and approach her through the rush of blood in her ears. 

When she can see him clearly again, can see the concern in his eyes and three day-old stubble on his face, she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“I broke up with Ned.”

She isn’t sure what she’s expecting.

Surprise maybe? Disbelief? She, herself, didn’t think she could do it.

Didn’t think she could look her totally innocent boyfriend in the eye and tell him that after almost three years together, she didn’t see it going anywhere. 

But of course there’s not a lick of shock anywhere on Gendry’s face.

Instead, the bastard has the nerve to smile at her with almost borderline amusement?

No, not amusement, more like smugness. Like he’d known all along that this would happen. 

And, okay she did too but there’s no need for him to rub it in.

Arya is about to tell him so, but then Gendry steps closer, infringing on her personal space and making it even harder to think clearly.

“I heard.” He says quietly; eyes never leaving her face. “Is that why you’re here?”

And because she _still_ doesn’t have an answer for him, Arya takes a second to look around his apartment. 

Her eyes land on his suitcase, unzipped with clothes sticking out of it, as though he’d planned on unpacking but then gave up half-way. It’s ridiculous that something so mundane takes her breath away, but it does.

She thinks of Ned and how annoyed he’d been with her when it had taken her days (okay, weeks) to unpack from her last trip and how he irons his shirts twice sometimes and matches his ties to his socks. 

And then there’s Gendry standing in front of her in a ripped Brotherhood without Banners t-shirt with his stupid suitcase spilling mismatched socks onto the floor. Before she can talk herself out of it, Arya's yanking him towards her and pressing her mouth against his. 

He doesn’t kiss her back, not right away, but his hands still find their home on her hips and even though he's not even moving against her, Arya knows she's done for. 

And so when Gendry does pull away, eyes now wilder and darker than they’d been a moment ago, she searches for the best way to convey what she needs. 

“I’m not here because of Ned. I’m here because of you.” 

His hold tightens almost instantly, and there’s a tick in his jaw that suddenly seems like the sexiest thing she’s ever seen, and she knows she’s got him, but just in case he reconsiders – 

which honestly, this isn’t one of her best ideas. To fuck the guy she might be in love with, who she’s pretty sure has been in love with her for years, but she never said she was rational – 

So _just_ in case, Arya leans up and nips at that spot that just twitched a moment ago, and then looks him dead in the eye. 

“Don’t you want me?”

And she knows it’s selfish, and that all of this might be a colossal mistake, but it all ceases to matter the second Gendry exhales, as if in surrender, and then he’s hauling her up towards his mouth with a hand on the back of her neck and the other firmly bracketing her waist, and Arya knows there’s no going back. 

Her jacket gets shed instantly, followed by his shirt, and she doesn’t stop kissing him, not even long enough to appreciate the broadness of his torso, and the ridges of his stomach. 

She feels them though, feels the flex of muscle as she claws at him, tracing whatever skin she can reach with her hands, with her tongue, lips burning from the coarse hair on his chest. 

The only time they pull apart is when she decides she’s wearing entirely too many clothes and pulls her sleep shirt over her body. 

In her hastiness to get here, she’d forgotten to put on a bra, and Gendry’s movement suddenly halts as he looks down. 

The way he gazes at her, like she’s his greatest heaven and hell wrapped into one, well nobody’s ever looked at Arya like that before, and she feels drunk on it. 

On his eyes, and on his touch, and on his words as he pulls her closer again.

“Gods, you’re beautiful.” 

As much as she wants to revel in it, she knows she can’t because if she even stops to think about what they’re doing, what she’s selfishly initiated, she might stop altogether, and she really doesn’t want to stop. 

No, she wants to feel Gendry's skin against hers, wants to know exactly what those skilled hands can do, and how quickly he can make her lose it, because she thinks it might be very, _very_ quick.

And so she pushes him towards the ratty old couch in his living room amidst his protests that they should really do this on the bed. 

“Later,” she mumbles before pulling off her bottoms and telling him to do the same, and they don’t talk after that. 

But she still commits to memory the look of complete awe that passes Gendry’s face as she moves to straddle him. 

How reverently his hands explore her body. 

How warm and wet his tongue is on the slope of her breast. 

How perfectly he stretches her as she sinks on top of him and how he digs his fingers insistently into her scalp, pulling her back by her hair, so he can sink his teeth into her throat.

And Arya doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the absolutely mind-numbing bolt of pleasure that shoots through her when he presses his thumb against her and starts to rub in time with the swivel of her hips. 

And how right before she’s about to come, she bites into that spot on his jaw again and he unravels beneath her, _with_ her; thrusting up so hard that she’s sure he’s marked her in a way that no one else has. 

After, she drapes herself over him and kisses the sweat from his brow, and she doesn’t even argue when he finally gets his wish and carries her to his bedroom. 

And she doesn’t think she’ll ever feel as satiated and content as she does then. 

But of course she’s never made things easy for herself. 

So when she wakes up some hours later to find Gendry completely wrapped around her – and who knew he was such a clingy sleeper? – the first thing that crosses her mind is how she could see herself sleeping next him every night.

She barely has time to bask in it before alarms start going off in her head. 

All the reasons why this is completely and utterly terrifying forcing her to slide out of his embrace and dress as stealthy as possible. 

When she passes his suitcase again on her way out, she almost changes her mind. 

But then that suffocating fear comes back. 

And stupid her. She lets it push her out the door. 

xxx 

She’d seen Gendry a few times after that night, but always in passing and never alone. 

He was always polite but didn’t approach her, and she hasn’t heard from him since – not even a text seeking explanation.

Arya doesn’t expect him to, knows he has way too much pride for that, but it doesn’t take away from the shitty feeling of knowing that he’s hurt, and more importantly, that _she_ hurt him. 

And she's felt progressively worse about it, because no matter what had happened in the past between them, Gendry was just always there. 

A constant in her life that she’d come to rely on far more than she anticipated. 

And her shitty decisions had driven him away. 

She’d never forget the disapproving look Jon had given her when she finally broke down and told him what happened. 

“That’s not what I meant when I said you should reach out to him.” 

He’d said before patting her on the shoulder and telling her that everything would eventually work out. 

But would it?

Could Gendry really forgive her for using him like that? 

He’d been a willing participant, that much was certain. Yet every time Arya has thought about that night – which is way too often for her liking – all she remembers is the devotion coloring his every action and every look. 

Even when he was rough with her, fingers bruising and teeth scraping, and pushing so, so deep within her, even then there’d been a quiet reverence about him. 

And it made her all the more aware that there was a huge chance they would never go back to the way things used to be. 

That she’d fucked up enough that they wouldn’t even be friends again, let alone something more. 

It was that kind of foolish thinking that had her accepting Ned’s dinner invitation. 

After their break-up, he’d almost completely relocated to Starfall, but he was still traveling to King’s Landing for work and offered to take Arya out for old time’s sake. 

And because she’s always liked Ned, and because there wasn’t anything really going on for her – aka nobody to tell her why this was another supremely dumb idea that wouldn’t change anything – Arya had put on one of three dresses she owned and agreed to meet her ex at their old date spot. 

This dress happens to be sleeveless, and she’d opted out of a jacket, so she feels the sudden drop in temperature acutely as she walks through the darkened streets. 

Somewhere in the back of mind, Arya knows she should probably check her phone, see if Ned’s responded to her texts or called her or anything at all, but then two things happen simultaneously that wipe all thoughts of Ned from her mind.

First, a fat droplet of rain lands right on her cheek, and second, when she rounds the corner, she realizes where her feet have carried her.

Of course, she’d end up here, she thinks, smiling stupidly to herself as she gazes up at Gendry’s apartment building. 

And she could blame it on the impending downpour or on a million other things really, but she doesn’t give herself the time to make excuses, closing the meager distance to the front door. 

Luckily for her, a couple chooses that moment to exit the building and she slips in behind them without having to ring up. 

At least this way, Gendry will have to slam the door in her face if he doesn’t want to talk to her. 

The thought propels her until she’s standing in front of his apartment, and surprisingly her heart is not pounding in her throat, and her hands are actually steady as she raps her knuckles against the door. 

While she waits for him to answer, there’s a brief moment where Arya thinks she might be able to do this the right way, the _mature_ way. Be measured and logical and adult about the whole thing. 

But of course all of that goes out the window the second Gendry opens the door, and – 

_Gods,_ did he get more handsome or is it just because her last memory of him is his mouth falling slack as they came together? 

Either way, Arya doesn’t wait for him to ask what she’s doing here, because it’s clear from his knitted eyebrows, and the firm line of his mouth, and the way he’s blocking the doorway, that he’s pissed at her. 

“Can I come in?” 

And the first inkling of nerves sparks when Gendry narrows his eyes. And there’s that scowl again, but this time, it’s more chilling than attractive, and Arya knows what he’s going to say before he does. 

“I’m not really in the mood right now.” 

And okay, she deserves that, but it doesn’t lessen the sting of his words. The last thing she wants him to think is that he’s just a bed warmer, because that’s not what he is. He never has been, and suddenly, it’s all the more imperative for her to let him know that. 

“I’m not here for _that._ I just want to talk.” 

Gendry doesn’t budge, still standing in the doorway with a quiet kind of anger radiating off of him. So, Arya uses the only weapon left in her arsenal and adds, “please” in the sincerest tone possible.

And whatever desperation is surely on her face makes him relent, and he steps aside just enough for her to slip inside his apartment. 

There’s no half-unpacked suitcase this time, but there are plenty of knick-knacks lying around – things that remind her of Gendry, and when then her eyes land on that shitty old couch of his, it's pretty much confirmed that this was an incredibly dumb idea. 

She suddenly feels unhinged, on edge. 

Or maybe it’s the way Gendry looks at her like he really couldn’t be bothered with her right now, watching her distrustingly as he leans against the shut front door. 

He’s in a different t-shirt this time, some band she doesn’t know the name of, but it’s still faded and ripped at the side, and it does absolutely nothing to hide the thick cord of muscle that loops around his biceps, and yeah, Arya will blame that and more on why she says the last thing she should really say to him. 

“Ned stood me up tonight.” 

And shit, if she didn’t know already that that was a bad way to start this whole thing, the flash of irritation on Gendry’s face does. What’s more is he looks utterly exhausted, weighed down by the whole thing, and she knows she has to fix this or else he’ll tell her to leave.

And she really doesn’t want to leave. At all. 

“We’re not back together or anything. He was just back in town for a few days and he offered to catch up and I said yes, and –“ 

She sees the exact moment all patience drains from his face, even before he interrupts her, a bite to his tone that’s never been directed towards her, not in any real way. 

“Listen, I really don’t need to hear about –“

But she’s not backing down this time.

“No, you really do.” 

Maybe one day they’ll stop talking over each other, but that day is not today. 

“Because as I was sitting there waiting for him, all I could think about was how much you would hate that place, and how much I actually fucking hated it too. Then I asked myself, why did I let Ned bring me here so many times? Why did I let him dictate where we went for dinner and what we did and how our relationship should go, and I realized – I just, I let it happen, because I was going through the motions, and not just with Ned, but with everything else, and-“ 

She doesn’t even realize she’s pacing then, but once she does, she halts, rambling also coming to a stop. And for once, Gendry is silent. 

Still looking like he’s gearing up for a fight but now with tinge of understanding in his expression? Some empathy maybe? 

It could very well be her mind playing tricks on her, but just in case it’s not. 

Just in case, there’s still a part of him that could forgive her… 

“And I realized how you were right in what you said the night of Jon’s graduation party. How people shouldn’t feel pressured or suffocated in relationships, and it’s not Ned’s fault at all. He’s a nice guy, even a great guy, but he’s not the guy for me.” 

She sees his face turn at the very mention of Ned, but it’s brief, and then Gendry's suddenly serious, gaze more intense than Arya thinks she's ever seen it. 

It instantly reminds her what it’s like to be the sole focus of his attention. 

To have those crystal blue eyes boring into her and spreading heat through every bit of her.

It makes her foolish and brave all at once. Makes her think that maybe he doesn’t have to say anything at all, because everything is written so plainly on his face. 

Just as it always has been, if she’d bothered to look. 

She takes a few steps towards him. 

“I know I fucked things up between us. That I was a coward, and selfish, and hells, I’m still all those things, but it’s only because you scare the shit out of me. You’re the only who challenges me, and pushes me to be better, and makes me feel alive even when you’re driving me utterly crazy, and I know it took me way too long to realize it, but I love you. I’m _in_ love with you and I know you probably don’t want anything to do with me, but I just had to tell you, and I know I hurt you, and I’m so–“ 

The sound of laughter cuts her off this time, specifically _Gendry’s_ laughter as he drops his arms and looks up at the ceiling. 

Irritation sparks inside her, because what in the bloody hells is so funny when she’s over here trying to confess her feelings? 

She frowns at him, mouth parting to yell at him, but he never gives her a chance. 

Before she can even react, Gendry crosses the distance between them and then those same strong arms that she’d been ogling earlier draw her ever so delicately against his chest. Then his voice, so deep, and low, and absolutely tantalizing breaks through the sudden thudding of her heart.

“How could you ever think I would want nothing to do with you?” 

And it must be the sheer relief that causes her eyes to well up with tears, because Arya Stark doesn’t cry but maybe she does now? Maybe it just takes the right person to pull that kind of emotion from her. 

She almost doesn’t want to look at him from where she’s pressed against him, but she forces herself to, and when she finds his gaze filled with naked adoration and love, the kind she’s only glimpsed over the years – hot shame fills her just as quickly as relief. 

Shame for letting herself be stubborn and scared and unwilling to accept the love that existed between them all this time. 

She can feel it in her grasp now, and somehow the strength of Gendry’s arms gives her the courage to be honest, to face her mistakes, and admit that she fucked up. 

“I am sorry for everything, for running out that night, for not admitting sooner what I wanted.” 

And as always, when she is about to spiral down that self-pitying rabbit hole, Gendry brings her back. This time with a warm, calloused palm on her cheek as he presses his forehead down against hers. 

“It’s okay. Just no more leaving, yeah? When you’re scared, you tell me and we talk about it. I promise to do the same.” 

And her nod is almost instantaneous, because Arya couldn’t possibly think of a reason to flee this time. Not with how comfortably he holds her, as though his arms were made for it, and how lovingly he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

She knows it’s not going to be easy, that she’ll have to work every day to be better, to do better, but Gendry, oh, she thinks, he might be absolutely worth it. 

That’s why it’s almost unnecessary when he tilts her chin up and tells her that he loves her, and that he’s been in love with her for as long as he can remember, but she accepts it anyway, a smile splitting her face in a way that almost hurts. 

When he leans down to kiss her, all slow and deep and so very much full of promise, Arya grabs a hold of his ripped t-shirt and doesn’t let go. 

And the next morning, when she wakes up to a dozen apologetic texts from Ned, explaining that his car had died and then his phone, and he’d had no way to reach her; but, maybe they could try again when he’s in town next time, Arya leaves them unanswered and follows the smell of coffee to the kitchen. 

She steals just one self indulgent moment to ogle Gendry where he stands at the counter, a mess of breakfast ingredients spread out in front of him. It's not long until he turns around to greet her, all sleep rumpled, and adorable, but mostly looking happier than she thinks she’s ever seen him as he beckons her towards him. She doesn’t hesitate sliding into his awaiting arms and pulling him down for a kiss. 

And when he kisses her back, Arya thinks it’s very smart of her to let him. 

xxx


End file.
